


reconnect

by venndaai



Series: Radch Canon Divergence AU [3]
Category: Imperial Radch Series - Ann Leckie
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awn Elming & Breq, Daos Ceit/Skaaiat Awer, Other, Skawn Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 19:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19818991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venndaai/pseuds/venndaai
Summary: Awn tried to tell herself that too much had changed, that the pounding of her heart was nothing more than an echo of the past. She was an exile with no future, far less a part of Skaaiat Awer’s world than she had been when they’d first met.





	reconnect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cassyblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassyblue/gifts).



Awn woke to something writhing its way out of her throat. She choked, and coughed, and retched, and someone held her shoulders, warm human contact as a corrective wormed its way out of her system. Someone held out a dish for her to spit it into. Fuck, she hadn’t known internal correctives were that unpleasant. An incentive to avoid needing any more in future, she supposed.

She was on a medical bed. A medic was observing the corrective. “Looks good,” she said. “Don’t try to talk, citizen.” 

It still gave her a terrible shiver, hearing herself called citizen, after so many years in uncivilized space, but she barely registered the feeling. She tried to talk.

“Shh,” the medic said. She turned to someone Awn couldn’t see. “I’m sure she has questions,” the medic said. “Perhaps you can answer them, Inspector Supervisor, but please try to keep her quiet. I need to attend to the other patients.” She moved out of Awn’s range of vision.

Awn rolled over. Now she could see blue uniformed knees. She tilted her head, wincing at the pain in her throat, until Skaaiat’s face came into view. Skaaiat looked even older than she had the last time Awn had seen her. Tired, Awn supposed.

“Breq,” Awn croaked. 

“She’s alive,” Skaaiat said. Her voice sounded wrong, with no trace of the usual quiet amusement in it. Like it belonged to someone else. “Seivarden is with her.” Her gloved hand twitched, as though she’d thought about reaching out to Awn and then thought better of it. Awn could see the memorial pin still glinting against her shirt cuff. “The sailpod that picked you up only contained one suspension pod, I’m afraid. Breq was in worse shape than you when the sailpod pilot got you back to the station.”

Awn opened her mouth. Skaaiat said, quickly, before Awn could speak and hurt her throat further, “I’ve no idea why the pilot put you in it. She didn’t know Breq was an ancillary. I wouldn’t torment yourself over it, my-” She stopped. Awn watched her swallow back that reflexive  _ my dear.  _

Tears pricked at her eyes. Awn closed them and rolled back onto her back, feeling frustration boil through her aching body. Wishing Skaaiat would go away. Wishing Skaaiat would stay. 

“You saved the station,” Skaaiat said. “A fact for which I am personally very grateful.”

_ No, Breq had said. I’ll find another way.  _

_ There is no other way, Awn had replied. Floating in the passenger section of the shuttle, the door to the pilot’s section propped open, Breq in the pilot’s seat staring at her ancillary-blank. The absence of humming leading to a vacuum-like silence, punctuated by the Lord of the Radch’s shots hitting the hull. Give me the gun. _

_ You can’t take it from me, Breq had said, with perfect accuracy. _

_ And Awn had pitched her voice into the old, remembered cadence of command, said, One Esk, I order you to give me your weapon.  _

“We managed to seal all the other exits and prevent any other Lords of the Radch from making it onto the hull,” Skaaiat continued. “Two gates went down. It might have been a great deal worse.”

Awn tried to take deep breaths, tried to get herself under control, but each whistle of air in and out scraped against her throat, and the pain caused the tears to prick harder.

“Would you like some tea?” Skaaiat asked.

Yes, she would like some tea. She tried to sit up.

“I can incline the bed,” Skaaiat said, “there’s no need to push yourself.”

“All right,” Awn whispered. It occurred to her that this wasn’t very grateful. But words of thanks also stuck in her throat.

Skaaiat helped her drink. It was the same tea they’d drank on Ors, in that open-plan house, the delicate fragrance of flowers picked millions of light-years away mingling with the smell of the mud and the water. 

Her throat felt easier. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.” 

“You owe me nothing,” Skaaiat said. “But I would still like to ask you something, if you would indulge me.”

Awn nodded. There was moisture around her mouth; she’d drunk the tea messily, and Skaaiat hadn’t reached out to wipe it away, which Awn was grateful for, but still, she felt so damn embarrassed. 

“Why did the Lord of the Radch order  _ Justice of Toren _ to kill you?”

“It’s not important,” Awn said.

Skaaiat said nothing. Clearly she would not push the issue. Awn looked at her. She was even more beautiful now than she’d been twenty years previously. Even the uncomfortable distance between them, the remoteness, only lent her more dignity. Awn tried to tell herself that too much had changed, that the pounding of her heart was nothing more than an echo of the past. She was an exile with no future, far less a part of Skaaiat Awer’s world than she had been when they’d first met. 

“Is Seivarden all right?” Awn asked. “And Daos Ceit?”

“Seivarden is fine,” Skaaiat said, “just sleep-deprived, as she refuses to leave Breq’s bedside. Quite the stubborn fool. She reminds me of a few people I know.”

From the bags under Skaaiat’s eyes, Awn had doubts she’d gotten much sleep lately herself. But Awn chose not to call out the hypocrisy. “And Daos Ceit?”

“She was injured,” Skaaiat said. She was looking at the ground, now. “The medics tell me she’ll recover.”

Awn found she didn’t know what to say. She thought of the little girl who’d once been part of what she considered her responsibility, and she thought of the things she could say to Skaaiat.  _ Are you dealing with her honorably?  _ She found she trusted that this older, serious Skaaiat was; still, it was uncomfortable to think of that young girl now occupying a position Awn had once imagined herself in. A position she’d thrown away, when she was herself young and probably far more foolish than Daos Ceit was now.

She felt guilty that she still, despite her best efforts, couldn’t remember the child. She remembered that there had been children, but they were only a faceless concept. Breq could remember all of them. Breq remembered everything.

The silence stretched.

“Inspector Supervisor,” she said, at last, and Skaaiat’s hand moved again and this time completed the motion, closing around Awn’s. Awn realized for the first time that someone had put thin disposable gloves on her. The medics, presumably. 

“Can you really not call me Skaaiat,” Skaaiat asked, and the smooth grave mask had slipped and Awn at last could see the person she remembered there, wild-eyed and desperate. 

“Skaaiat,” she said. “Do you know if my family-” She found she couldn’t say anything more.

Skaaiat let out a long breath. “I haven’t seen your parents since the memorial service.” Her hand around Awn’s was turned to display the pin on her sleeve cuff, still there, less out of place now that Skaaiat’s coat was less adorned. “Your mother didn’t believe you were dead. I don’t know if she eventually accepted it or not. I saw your sister ten years ago. She’s in horticulture, two gates from here. I….” Skaaiat hesitated. “I offered her clientage,” she said, at last.

Awn swallowed. The words seemed to settle, in the air between them. “Why?” she croaked. 

Skaaiat’s hand squeezed hers almost convulsively. “Do you really not know?” she asked.

_ Awer has been collecting people like you,  _ the Lord of the Radch had said, twenty years previously.

Awn hadn’t been able to believe it. No- she’d refused to believe it. At the time things had seemed clear. Over the years they had become less so. 

If Skaaiat had involved Basnaaid in some dangerous political game-

“I loved you,” Skaaiat said, “and I never told you. It was- the least I could do.” She let go of Awn’s hand, carefully. The loss of the warmth of her skin through the paper-thin glove was a shock. 

“She turned me down,” Skaaiat said. “Very stubborn. I think you will be proud of her, when you see her.” She stood up, straightening her jacket. 

“Skaaiat,” Awn said. 

“I need to see Daos Ceit,” Skaaiat said. “And Breq. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

“Skaaiat,” Awn repeated. 

“I think it would be best if we both had some time to think,” Skaaiat said. Now that she was standing up, Awn couldn’t see her face any more, just the blue coat with its pins all askew.

“All right,” Awn said softly. 


End file.
